


Plan

by tastewithouttalent



Series: Unexpected [1]
Category: Ookiku Furikabutte | Big Windup!
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Established Relationship, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Nervousness, No Plot/Plotless, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-27
Updated: 2014-10-27
Packaged: 2018-02-20 15:44:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2434202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tastewithouttalent/pseuds/tastewithouttalent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Rationally Abe knows Mihashi is an adult, can be trusted to get himself home after work even if there are minor crises along the way. But in practice he started pacing after three minutes, and in the moment there’s a storm coming in, and even if the other has outgrown the worst of the fragility he had in high school Abe still worries." Mihashi is later than usual and has a surprise for Abe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Plan

By the time the front door opens, Abe is starting to get worried.

It’s not like Mihashi to be late. It’s not the same deliberate punctuality that Abe cultivates in himself, but it was barely a week after they moved in together before Abe had a read on what time Mihashi left in the morning and what time he’d return. On the very few occasions the other is late Abe can count on a painfully apologetic text, usually at least an hour in advance. But he has no such text -- he’s been checking his phone every few minutes, just to be sure -- and it’s almost ten minutes now that Mihashi  _should_  have been home.

Rationally Abe knows Mihashi is an adult, can be trusted to get himself home after work even if there are minor crises along the way. But in practice he started pacing after three minutes, and in the moment there’s a storm coming in, and even if the other has outgrown the worst of the fragility he had in high school Abe still worries.

He’s staring at the blank space of the wall, contemplating putting on a coat and going out himself -- he knows what route Mihashi takes, he’s unlikely to miss him -- when the front door shifts in its frame. The relief hits even before the door is entirely open, Abe moving quickly enough that he’s in the front entryway while Mihashi barely has one foot in the house.

“Where were you?” It comes out rough, low and shaky, and Abe can hear the worry in the tone but Mihashi looks up, his eyes so wide and startled Abe bites back the rest of his words, reforms them on his tongue. “I was worried.”

Mihashi blinks flutter-fast, tips his chin down and away to avoid Abe’s gaze. It’s such a familiar reaction it takes Abe a minute to realize how  _dated_  it is, to remind himself that Mihashi hardly ever looks like that anymore. “S-sorry.”

Mihashi’s not looking at him, so he doesn’t see the way Abe’s forehead creases into true concern. “It’s okay.” He takes a half-step in, closes his fingers at Mihashi’s elbow to draw him into the house properly. “We shouldn’t leave the door open.” Mihashi lets himself be pulled over the entrance, far enough in that Abe can steer him to stand against the wall while he closes the door. When he turns back around Mihashi hasn’t moved, hasn’t lifted his chin or unhunched his shoulders, although his eyes flicker away when Abe looks at him.

Abe can feel his hands go cold and shaky. “What’s wrong?” He’s not being careful with his tone; the words go flat and too-loud with the chill of panic in his blood. “Ren.” That’s better, softer, a little more gentle. Abe steps in closer, reaches out to rest his hand at Mihashi’s elbow. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine!” The reassurance has the high chirp of sincerity, but when Mihashi looks up there’s still a cringing curve to his shoulders. “You don’t...don’t need to worry.”

Abe huffs an inaudible laugh. “I will anyway.” He tightens his fingers, one at a time, presses his fingertips in against the warm comfort of Mihashi’s arm. He can see the self-conscious flush rising into the other’s cheeks, the startled surprise at affection that even years of experience haven’t entirely erased. It makes Abe cringe against the odd pain-pleasure of that expression, the desperate satisfaction of causing that reaction running up hard against the hurt that Mihashi  _still_  looks surprised, still looks nearly apologetic for daring to be pleased that Abe is touching him, worrying about him,  _wanting_  him.

“It’s fine,” Abe repeats back, but he doesn’t let his hold go. Mihashi’s close and warm and here, and the trailing edge of concern is still sparking in his veins so he wants the pleasure of physical contact at his fingers. It takes effort to smooth out the rough edges of his voice, to make his next words a question instead of an accusation. “Why were you late?”

“Ah.” Abe can feel Mihashi go tense, the anxiety flexing tight under Abe’s fingers and drawing incoherency into his throat. “I. I.”

“Ren,” Abe cuts him off. “Look at me.” Mihashi jerks like he’s trying to pull away, but experience has taught him to listen to Abe’s commands. When his chin comes up his eyes focus on Abe’s, hold and steady until his arm relaxes. Abe waits, doesn’t speak and doesn’t think about how long it’s taking, doesn’t let instinctive impatience flare hot into his eyes. He just waits, carefully keeping his thoughts on the color of Mihashi’s eyes in the artificial light, and the windblown freshness still lingering in the air around the other, and if it’s not true patience he achieves it’s close enough. Mihashi lets himself breathe out, shifts his shoulders with a choking inhale, but the second one is better, the third better still, and when he speaks he sounds calm, the way Abe has tried to teach him to sound.

“I was picking up --” He catches himself, his eyes flicker away for a moment. “Something.” Back. His chin is tipped down again, the angle apologetic before Abe even knows what the subject is. “For you.”

Abe considers the date, the month, frames the present in the context of birthdays and holidays and anniversaries and comes up blank. “A present?”

“N-no.” Mihashi looks away, slides his foot across the floor like he’s thinking of pulling away although he doesn’t move.

“What is it, then?” There’s no input Abe can pick out of Mihashi’s expression, no explanation he can see through the disguise of nerves, and he  _still_  doesn’t know why the other is so jittery when he has no apparent reason.

“I.” Mihashi takes another breath, lift his chin sharply so he’s staring at Abe’s face. “I want to get married!”

Abe doesn’t drop Mihashi’s arm. He doesn’t go silent with shock, his hands don’t even chill with the surprise. What he does is open his mouth, pull in harder at Mihashi’s elbow, and bark “ _What_?” at a volume that is unreasonable for a house, much less at such close range as he is.

Mihashi blinks hard, rapid-fire motion hiding his eyes while he swallows, but then his gaze steadies out, his shoulders catch some strength from the surroundings, and when he speaks again the words are clear, even if they’re whisper-soft. “I want to get married.”

Abe keeps turning the words over in his head, trying to gain traction on the sentence that just doesn’t make any  _sense_  on Mihashi’s tongue. “No, no way.” He shakes his head, sharp and certain, tightens his fingers at Mihashi’s arm. “This isn’t how this is supposed to go.”

Mihashi blinks again, the sweep of his eyelashes taking the glow in his eyes with it as his mouth falls into trembling hesitation. “You...you don’t want to get married?”

“Of  _course_  I want to get married!” Abe shouts before he realizes how loud it will sound, drags at Mihashi’s arm to shake at the other like the motion will convey his meaning. “ _I’m_  going to be the one to propose.”

Mihashi moves easily with the pull of Abe’s arm, rocking forward and backward without resistance so it takes Abe a moment to see the shift in his expression, the way his mouth is coming open and his eyes are opening wider and bright. “You -- you’re going to--”

“Yes!” Abe stops pulling -- he can’t watch Mihashi’s face when the other is moving -- in favor of closing his hand on the other’s free elbow, bracing him in place even though it’s Abe’s hand that is shaking, it’s Abe’s arm that needs steadying. “Of course I’m going to, I just haven’t decided  _when_  yet.”

“Oh.” Mihashi blinks, his gaze skimming over Abe’s features like a touch. “I. Can I give you the ring?”

The words demanding voice in Abe’s throat go still, freeze and evaporate into silence as the his coherency is finally shouted down by surprise. When he opens his mouth it’s around an inhale instead of a shout; he has to consciously think about fitting words around the breathless attention in his head.

“You have a ring?”

Mihashi’s smile is shy, just barely a curve at the corners of his mouth, but the joy is radiant in his eyes even before he ducks his head, tugs his arm free of a hold gone suddenly slack at his elbow so he can reach into his pocket. When he draws his hand free his hold is trembling, shaking the simple silver band he’s holding, but when Abe reaches out to close his fingers around Mihashi’s his skin is flushed warm to the touch.

Abe wants to keep staring at the ring, keep considering the width of the band to verify even before he puts it on that it will fit, that it will settle perfectly around his finger like it’s part of his body. But then he looks up, and Mihashi’s starting to smile and blush at the same time, and even the ring can’t pull his attention away from that.

“I don’t have one for you yet,” he blurts.

Mihashi’s laugh crinkles into the corners of his eyes, sweeps warm under the flush in his skin, steals the last of Abe’s words right out of his mouth. That leaves his lips empty, still and unoccupied, but Mihashi is tipping his chin up, his laughter fading off into the soft offer of his mouth, and there was never truly any danger of Abe refusing.


End file.
